Pages

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

I am done!
I am done, and I am alive. It took much, much studying, a lot of caffeine, a lot of tears as well as the blood of my enemies and a few early morning/late night ranting sessions as my dorm friends, but freshman year of college is done. I am slowly regaining a healthy sleeping pattern and the ability to eat red meat. (I didn't trust the dorm food, and so lived on mostly chicken, pasta, and apples. I then made myself painfully sick by coming home and gobbling steak. College freshmen, beware.) I am also becoming reacquainted with a hairbrush.

This is scarily accurate of my life.

I do not have much to say right now. Soon, I will post book reviews and rejoin the world. I'll talk about meeting some of my favorite authors, but Maggie already did that so I'm not overly planning on that. Oh! But soon, Alpha! And I will meet Scott Westerfeld and Tamora Pierce and all sorts of other amazing people and die of awesomeness. (Also, I'll eat dorm food for two weeks again. It'll never be done.)

My first year of college consisted of a lot of drunkenness (not by me -- I lived in a very lush dorm, apparently) and a lot of mutant squirrels (my campus must be feeding them steroids) and a lot of climbing on furniture and moaning about how much work had to be done and then waiting until two minutes before it was due to do it. I will regale this blog with stories of individual moments, I think, throughout the summer. First off, I want to remember those moments. Second, as a high school student, I know that I creeped through college kid blogs to try and figure out what college was like. Finally, I don't have anything else to say why not?

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Hey, you. You're looking nice today. I really like your jaw. Also, your knees. You've got great knees. You should wear tutus more often, you know, to better emphasize them.
Speaking of sparkly clothing, I recently encountered a professor that taught our class about Angels in America while dressed in drag. It was a beautiful sequined red dress that I could never pull off, and one of the strangest classroom experiences I've had while in college. However, while it was a great lecture, and while I later got to see Tony Kushner talk about Angels in person, I have to say, this was not my best lecture in college. Don't get me wrong; both Kushner and my sequined professor gain major props. I mean, for one, sparkles. For another, a hauntingly beautiful Pulitzer prize winning play about death, destruction, and abandonment full of dark humor. I'm a fan of all of these things. Basically, it is . . .

I don't know who let me on the internet.

I go to a lot of lectures. Why not? For one, a lot of my classes require them. I took a Humanities course that has nothing to do with my major but everything to do with my attraction to literature, music, and art, and there were weekly lectures about everything from Descartes to Billie Holiday to things such as this:

I met a lot of wonderful professors and also learned that I really hate Descartes. (No, seriously, I really do.)
Back to lectures. They're great. We get a lot of extra talks for free -- and they're free, so why not go? I've dragged my friends to ones about the role of porn in modern society, what it means to be a country constantly at war, and what running a Fortune 500 company is really like. I like all of these things. It's fascinating, and it's great material for a someday story.

I'm also a fan of journalists. I go to a school that brings in a lot of journalists, and I find that the lectures they give are some of the most inspiring. They are literally putting their lives on the line to chase a story, and I find that all kinds of cool. I've heard from multiple women held captive in various war zones and men that traveled through the South American jungle to follow a lead. Again, these are wonderful lectures. However, my favorite lecture of my freshman year did not come from a journalist, a writer, a CEO, or an entrepreneur. Instead, it came from a crook.

Or, I guess, a reformed crook.
I was cleaning out my desk in the slow attempt to dig out of my dorm room and I found a ticket stub from Frank Abagnale's speech at my college. If you don't know the story, look it up. Or, heck, you could just watch the movie. He said that it's largely accurate.

Abagnale's speech was eloquent, engaging, heart-breaking, thought provoking, and a lot of other adjectives. You may know that I used to do debate; by which I mean, I obsessively talked about my debate involvement for the past four years. I like speeches. On one level, this was my favorite because -- not surprisingly -- the man was just really, really eloquent.

For another reason, though, I liked the story. It's a real life tale about a heist; he not only stole and lied, but he did it fantastically well. He was severely flawed, escaping from a divorce that his parents dropped from out of the sky. He fell in love; he got caught. He was internationally infamous and he spent a long time in a cold jail cell, eventually remaining there while his father passed away. It is a story that has you hooked. It's a story with a plot, an almost unbelievably brilliant MC, and ultimately, change.

These are the reasons why lectures are beautiful. Sometimes, you sit and wonder why you aren't watching Merlin or doing your PoliSci homework. Others, though, you sit on the edge of your seat and take notes on your dying cell phone because you desperately want to remember the story. You keep the ticket stub between the pass that let you into the Presidential Inauguration and your program for the Vagina Monologues.

Life is full of stories. We're living them every day. Sometimes, hearing other people's is the most exciting and invaluable thing you could be doing with your time -- and if you're in college, I know, there are tons and tons of really cool, glittery parties you can go to instead. Sometimes, though, put down the red solo cup and go grab one of those free tickets.

That's my spiel, and I'm sticking to it.

Goodbye, reader that probably does not exist! I must continue digging out of my dorm. Until then:

Monday, May 13, 2013

Hello, ducklings.
I'm drowning in the waves of finals, currently, and so I am making this brief. I am updating to remind myself of my revived determination to actually write fun things, and to do it well, and because I really, really am sick of studying and this still feels productive.
My life consists currently of a lot of Merlin and even more crying stoic undertakings to understand The Veil of Ignorance (people should make judgement without class or politics or other stupid things being in consideration? Maybe?) and trying to memorize the 117 terms my European History professor thought were necessary for my final. Also,no hablo español y mi examen es pronto. I have been accepted to Alpha again this year (I went in 2011) which means I will be learning from Scott Westerfeld, Tamora Pierce,Theodora Goss, and Justine Larbalasteir this summer. I'm even going as a Beta student, which means that my story will be given to all of the attendees of Alpha and I will do my best not to cry as they rip it to shreds learn the magic of critiques in a very intense and awesome setting. My goals for the summer include:Stalking my librarian.Finishing a rough draft of something. (I am intensely aware of non-writer people that can find this blog and also know me in real life, and I am too awkward to go into more detail about this sort of thing with friends. Obviously, strangers would be totally acceptable.)Take Macroeconomics at a local university.Make my mother take me on road trips. (Her job makes her travel. It'll be like Bring Your Kid To Work except College Edition!) Rewatch episodes of Glee back from before it got terrible.Annoy my friends, primarily this one. Read. Read. Read more. And finally, spend as much time as possible watching this:

Bradley James, you are the light in the darkness of Finals.

Prince Arthur has never looked so good.

Good luck to those of you with finals, and to the rest of you, I direct my unmitigated and jealous hate.

Thursday, May 2, 2013

I don't post on this much anymore. It feels kind of strange too, honestly, especially since this is hooked to my Twitter account. People that I like, actually, know follow that. (Back when I started this blog, Twitter wasn't really a thing. Yeah, that's right, I was basically a hipster.) It's especially odd here in college because most people don't know that I write. Honestly, a lot of my friends here probably don't even know that I read much, because it's not really something I can get away with anymore to read in class, and besides, the classes are (usually) interesting enough that I actually pay attention. (Also, it's amazing how much more you feel obligated to pay attention when you're paying for them.) Regardless, the fact that I write is still fundamental to me personally, but definitely not something that most people would associate me with. It's actually rather odd, now that I think about it.
Anyway.
I'm turning 19 tomorrow. It's odd for a multitude of reasons. For one, I've officially been an American adult now for a year. Like -- what? I mean, sure, I'm picking out my own food now, but it usually consists of this:

And no, I'm not kidding. Plus a lot of Sonic because I am a frugal person that understands the value of the Moneyz, I occasionally spend a dollar or two at Sonic in order to consume a little bit of strawberry tea. But only a little bit.

(I've started going to the gym, Internet. Yes, I know. The horror. I refuse to touch the Freshmen Fifteen, though. It will not happen.)

Moving on.

The second reason that it's weird is that this is my last year as a teenager, which means absolutely nothing except for this strange concept that I'm not the same age as my favorite characters anymore. It's very weird. Amid the debates about New Adult as a genre, I can tell you at least one (Actually two, if you add Maggie) teenager is quietly wishing for people to shut up and just let it happen. Seriously, I want more of it. That's a rant for another time, though, when I don't have two hours of Spanish homework looming over my head and finals creeping ever closer. Fundamentally, I am used to talking about YA as 'my people' and 'my genre' and it's very weird to know that I'm 'out-growing' that. I put that all in quotations because I believe in remembering childhood and such, and I will always love YA, but again, that's better saved for another time.

The third reason is realizing how long I've had this blog. I posted about my 16th birthday here. My 17th, my 18th, too. I don't keep a diary, but this blog definitely is a form of one, even if I'm kind of just writing for myself now. But it felt wrong not to talk about turning 19.

In the last year, I:

-Ended high school.

-Placed nationally in debate with a great partner.

-Started college with many of my best friends at my side.

-Am ending my first year of college having fulfilled the cliche of losing many of my best friends as I grow up.

-Gained acceptance to Alpha yet again, where I will meet Scott Westerfeld, among others.

-Was awarded the Honors College Scholarship for a freshman student at my university.

-Ended up on several executive boards of various organizations.

-Attend Obama's second presidential inauguration and saw Washington DC for the first time.

-Met several people that will someday be very, very good bad guys in a novel.

-Remembered that I love to write.

Anyway. I have homework and I'm feeling sappy, which is dangerous on this website, so I'm going to say farewell. Tomorrow is my birthday and on Saturday, I'm going to the RT Book Convention in KC. Farewell, internet. I shall be back.

The Required About -ME- Section

I'm Sam. I'm an 19 year old aspiring author and this is where I ramble.
My story, Altered, was a top pick for March 2010 on inkpop.com,and I attended Alpha -- an international writing camp that houses Tamora Pierce as a mentor -- in the summer of 2011 and 2013. I am also quite fond of strawberry tea.